


The Trial

by DulcetDamsel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Coming of Age, M/M, They'll get longer I promise, short first chapter, we'll see where this goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 17:49:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11742078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DulcetDamsel/pseuds/DulcetDamsel
Summary: Harry Potter was about to become a man, a full member of society. He was now 18 years old and it was time for him to take The Climb, a Gryffindor tradition. He had to prove his bravery, prove that he could match his father and that he was ready for adulthood and all that it entailed.Then, like all things in Harry Potter's life, it went wrong.





	The Trial

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS NOT THE FULL CHAPTER
> 
> This is my first fic in 5 years and I just need to get this out here before I, ironically, wimp out and delete this. Let me know what you think and where you imagine this could be taken.

The crags of Godric’s Hollow towered above him, powerful and ominous. Harry’s hands began to shake. It was a dangerous climb; year after year he watched his housemates attempt to reach the cliff’s peak – not one of them had ever made it. Colored gashes segmented the rock face, thick strips of magic where climbers pushed their cores into the rock just before they fell. Proof of their bravery which, if impressive, would become the starting point of that Gryffindor’s legacy. The first 20 feet of the crags were a rainbow of colors, but as the cliffs got higher there were fewer and fewer marks.

Percy had barely managed 7 feet before he’d fallen on his ass, the entire house still giggled under their breaths when he walked by. Harry had laughed too, but standing at the base of the cliffs he couldn’t imagine why he had thought it so funny. Harry would frankly prefer Percy’s humiliation to Geor –

“GETTING A MOVE ANYTIME THIS CENTURY, AY HARRY?”

Harry startled, turning to find Ron standing a ways away. A smile was on his face and he was standing proudly with the Weasleys and the rest of the Gryffindors at the base of the stone staircase leading up to the crags. Hermione looked just about as thrilled to be watching him as he felt to be here. At least that was one person on his side. He could spot Colin Creevy in the front too, ready to record the details of the climb. No doubt everyone would know which mark was Harry’s by tomorrow. He felt sick.  Harry took a deep breath, it was better to get it over with. He would climb a fair distance and then get back down, easy peasy. Ron had done it already, and he was fine.

The first hand-hold was just above his head, shiny and smooth with use. He grabbed it and began to heave himself up. There began a strange tingling in his fingers, cool like mint and eucalyptus. Harry tried to relax his hands, he couldn’t psych himself out this early in the game. He pulled himself up again, shoes brushing tentatively against rocks until they found worn footholds, muscles flexing with a practiced familiarity. He, like any Gryffindor, had played on the rocks since childhood. Surely this was no different.

Harry passed the first of the marks, a pale yellow washed out with time and weather conditions. He passed another, a soft lilac, then a mint green, a white, Percy’s sky blue, and colors Harry couldn’t quite place. The tingling had started in his toes now and flickered across his nose. It was getting annoying. Harry pushed through regardless, one hand above the other.  The marks were more common now, starting to fill the rocks completely. Harry reached for the next handhold, an outcropping covered by a vibrant purple.

His fingers brushed the purple and Harry stopped. Suddenly, a cacophony of _feeling_ coursed through him. The cool tingle engulfed him, through his arms, legs, throat, eyes, tongue. It was beneath his toenails and in his armpits, cold deep in his stomach and yet throughout the air. _Or was he in the air?_ The rock he knew must be beneath his fingers and feet was cold, like holding ice. He felt like he was floating, like he was buried in dirt, like he was floating away in nothingness but where he was the everything in the nothingness and everything was purple and tingling and tension.

All stood still for a single blissful moment.

Then the tension broke. Harry’s muscles were working without his input, finding hold where there looked to be none and pulling himself even though he felt no strain. He was moving upward. He was moving upward faster than he could put names to colors, until suddenly there were no more colors and all Harry could see was the gray expanse of rock extending in front of him.  


End file.
